


connection

by gryffindormischief



Series: Harry Potter AUs! [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hook-Up, Meet-Cute, Smut, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Missed connections, flight delays, layovers, all to be expected in the modern world of travel - strange bedfellows less so.





	connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fightfortherightsofhouseelves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightfortherightsofhouseelves/gifts).
  * Inspired by [stop the world i wanna get off with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167561) by [fightfortherightsofhouseelves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightfortherightsofhouseelves/pseuds/fightfortherightsofhouseelves). 

> This is a gift for fightfortherightsofhouseelves and its based on the gift they gave me so its a beautiful circle of gifts, meet cutes, and hinny sultry time.

Three-oh-five in the morning is fun in specific circumstances - post concert parties, bleary eyed after new year hours spent by the fire, and late night telly binges. The list’s not exhaustive in any sense. There’s the ‘I have to finish this book so I will hold my eyelids open with toothpicks if necessary’ or ‘this is a brand new video game and I want to beat just _ one _more level’ - basically Ginny could probably fill the entirety of this dingy airport floor with a written list of things that are fun at three A.M. 

At least it would take her mind off the one thing that definitely _ won’t _make the list - namely being stuck in a crowded airport in the middle of the night with absolutely no hope of getting home in the near future. In fact, it’s probably pretty safe to say it wouldn’t make anyone’s top ten.

Plus, despite her nearly two month stay in the country, Ginny’s conversational Romanian is next to nothing. The airline reps are all fluent in English, as are most of the miraculously patient customer service agents, but an entire airport full of overtired humans are all looking for answers at once and Ginny’s just one in a million. 

She’s resigned herself to finding a cozy corner with access to a charging station when an overtired voice grumbles in what sounds like English. It doesn’t take long to find the long, lanky - and decidedly fit - bloke staring at the notice screens glumly. 

“Excuse me, do you speak English?”

While she re-settles her rucksack on her shoulder, he turns to her and she finds herself pinned by the most gorgeous pair of green eyes in existence. Sleep deprivation makes her quite poetic...good to know.

He blinks once, twice. “At times, when I can’t work my way out of socializing. Otherwise I fancy myself a bit of a cat and dog whisperer.”

Ginny scans him, up and down. Luckily he doesn’t notice her gawking as it seems he’s distracted and perhaps a bit - wistful? Probably the face Ginny’d make if she let herself dream about a hot cuppa and a cozy bed. Then waking up to pizza and a binge ready sitcom on the telly.

When their eyes meet again Ginny manages to tear her imagination from cheese-laced heaven. “That’s an awful lot of information for one who styles himself unsociable.”

Then, he blinks down at her and says one of the top five phrases that sets the ‘Kill Bill’ sirens going in her brain. 

“Wow you’re short.”

Somehow, in some miracle of self restraint that graces Weasleys on occasion like Hailey’s Comet, Ginny does _ not _pummel him with her overful duffel. “Never met anyone going to greater lengths to prove a point.” 

And then, because she’s human, Ginny leaves with a flourish in search of someone with manners and hopefully good news.

In reality, she gets a mixed bag. Mildly short tempered desk agents, still cancelled flights, but directions to a nearby hotel and a room voucher to boot. Her luck continues as she manages to snag a lumpy seat on the last shuttle to the hotel, bag propped on her lap, and apparently secure the last room available.

By this point, she’s barely awake and lucid enough to comprehend directions to the lifts, so the night manager’s apologies about the room accommodations just flit past her ears.

The room hardly makes an impression, the usual vague hotel pinks and greens melded together on a plasticky bedspread, matching wallpaper, and a couple of heavy looking lamps.

Tired as she is, airport stays inevitably lead to that ‘eaux de airport’ stench and Ginny definitely won’t be able to sleep without a quick scrub. She manages to stumble through her ablutions, hair sudsy with cheap hotel soap, eyes bleary with dryness borne of perpetual aircon, and skin tender from days in the sun with Charlie at the reserve. 

The warm spray pounds out tense muscles, warms her chilled limbs, and gets her more than in the mood for _ sleep _. Holiday with Charlie was sort of like a work camp, but in the best way possible. Now, it’s just a matter of wrestling a clean pair of knickers from her bag and falling into the papery sheets.

She doesn’t even realize she’s drifted off until the bed dips and a warm lump of - a man?

Her inhuman yelp is pretty understandable, definitely justified yes. With a few quick moves, Ginny flicks the bedside lamp on and pets the rough side gently, waiting to see if the previously noted heavy fixture is about to become necessary. “Bloody buggering hell.”

He looks oddly boyish without his dorky little specs, dark circles forming beneath his eyes. Still obnoxiously adorable as he ruffles his hair. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Hilarious,” Ginny drawls, glad to know sleepiness doesn’t muddle her dry-as-the-Sahara sarcasm.

Her unexpected bedfellow blinks, glasses reclaimed, and his cheeks flush. “Are you wearing any clothes?”

An unsummoned growl rises in her throat. “Get. Out. Before I bite your head off.”

There, that’s good. A Ginny classic - Percy probably cringed an ocean away.

Then, instead of bowing to her order - impressive and disappointing in equal parts given how much Ginny was enjoying her sleep - he proceeds to launch into some sort of half coherent, long winded explanation that’s really not an explanation at all. Yes he’s definitely adorable.

Ginny wrangles her brain back into focus just as he’s groaning about his breath and possible nasty pants - and then says he just wants to sleep. _ Right _.

“Are we sharing a bed then?”

He tilts his head. “Dunno. Just pretend I’m not here, yeah?”

“Fantastic.”

Then, because she’s all riled up, Ginny storms toward the loo for a few sips of water and probably a visit to the _ facilities _. 

And of course, interloping fit bloke has something to say about that. “What are - erm, what are you doing?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and planting her feet in a power pose worthy of a TED Talk, she answers, “Minding my own business. You said to ignore you and now I am,” he looks utterly flummoxed so she delivers the death blow, “Any more complaints?”

That sets him stuttering and Ginny, instead of calming, feels her hackles rise. And as her six brothers can attest, once Ginny’s on a roll it’s like trying to stop a freight train - impossible and you’ll probably find yourself missing a few limbs at best. 

It ends on some ‘you’re probably a violent criminal and I’m about to die and I’m pissed about it’ type rant and his eyes are still gorgeous and green and ugh. Now he’s apologizing and saying she’s pretty. 

Well, that’s a start.

He rubs at the back of his neck. “I have this dumb mouth that has a brain of its own, a stupid brain that’s been sabotaging me since I was fourteen and wanted to invite Cho Chang - ”

Oh wow, he really knows how to rant. Maybe he’d trade lessons for snogging sessions. Imagine if they somehow combined their power - did he just say put on clothes?

He really is endearingly bad with women and humans in general it sounds like. “You’re weird. I like that.”

The smile that earns her - it makes her feel things that should really only happen in those fluffy romance novels she binges on bank holidays. He flushes again. “Please don’t slap me, but what’d you think about covering - ehem.”

And then, it all falls into place, his blushes, suggestions about putting on clothes, the slight chill she felt all over.

Ginny does manage to summon up a healthy dose of courage and a bit of snootiness that would make Percy proud. “I’d think that, for the first time, the two of us are on the same page.”

Then, in the most dignified way possible, Ginny finds one of the white t-shirts she’d borrowed from Charlie’s store of Hanes packages. When it comes to care packages, Molly Weasley goes big or she goes home. 

Now fully clothed, or mostly so, Ginny extends her hand. “Ginny,” she shrugs, “It’s only polite to learn the name of your bedmate.”

He grins again. “Right. Harry, the name’s Harry.”

“Well hello, Harry.”

It was definitely her best attempt, under the circumstances, at flirtation, but Harry seems to be more nervous than encouraged. The agitated babbling has renewed - no one should be this adorably enticing. “Don’t tell him I said this, but my godfather Sirius is right: I don’t want to be , still I’m somewhat of a git when I’m hungry and haven’t slept.”

Ginny makes herself comfortable, fingers aching to follow his running through his wild hair. Their banter is easy, light, and who would have guessed she’d find someone this _ ideal _ on an unplanned extra night in Romania.

They exchange tragic airline induced back stories and it’s all fairly family friendly chatter until he brings up the nudity again. Maybe he’s feeling the tug too - 

“ - in this meet cute, you’ll probably become best friends. Not that there’d be any future scenario when you two could meet and share ridiculous stories and, yeah, perhaps I should stop talking.”

_ So weird. So alright. _ God the sensible part of her knows she should’ve kicked this veritable stranger out on his arse a half hour ago, but he doesn’t feel like a creep. He feels - familiar. But also deliciously _ tempting _.

Well he was alright until the whole short thing re-emerged. 

“Take that back.”

Her fingers grip the edge of a pillow almost unconsciously, Harry does the same. They each get a few swipes in, trash talking abounds as does the adolescent shoving, touching and teasing. But she’s never been one to let a healthy dose of attraction get in the way of her competitive nature - Michael Corner her first boyfriend can attest to her alleged ‘cold blooded’ behavior - so she’s soon got Harry pinned beneath her. Sure, he dragged her down with him but who’s to say it wasn’t part of her plan. 

Though from his slightly panicked expression it seems they’re on the same page about the surprise boob grab. Harry’s brain grinds into motion first. “To be fair, I meant pretty, not short.”

Ginny leans down, so their lips almost touch. “To be fair, I meant cute, not weird.”

And then they’re kissing, soft at first - not the rushed heat of a hook up - slow and gentle like he’s learning her by each press. It’s nice, wonderful even. But he’s torturing her and there’s only one thing to do - and it works too. One teasing nip and he’s pulled her so close it’s like Ginny can’t tell where he ends and she begins. 

Somehow, they’re stripped bare, heartbeats in sync it seems, his hands worshipping each and every curve, every inch of her. Each kiss headier than the last so that Ginny almost doesn’t notice when Harry rolls them from the bed - her first airborne tryst. 

Harry looks down at her, eyes wide, oddly innocent when juxtaposed with their very _ un _ innocent activities, and she can’t wait. Not any more. She rises over him, knees pressed into the rough floor, her palms pressed into his chest as she brings them together with twin groans and sighs into his neck, “ _ Harry _.”

His hands drag up her back, around in random circuits, pressing her c_ losercloser - harder _.

_ Shite _.

Harry’s hips arch, and then he’s on his feet, her legs wrapped around his, pupils blown wide and pulse thrumming. It’s a rhythmic dance and he seems intent on leading - which is alright for now so long as he keeps doing _ that _ \- _ oh Harry _ \- Ginny’d hopefully get to take control the next round.

Their moans echo off the walls, Ginny arches her back as Harry pushes her over the edge and she drags him with her. 

Breathless as she is, Ginny feels as if she’ll die without another kiss, another taste of his lips. This time it’s no hesitation, no slow gentle tug. It’s an all consuming moment that feels like she’ll be devoured by it. They collapse to the ground in a heap of sweat-sheened limbs and Ginny finally gets her head propped on her arm. “I’ve never had a one night stand.”

His lips quirk, one hand coming to rest behind his head as he tilts his gaze her way. “Safe to assume you probably won’t any time soon either.” 

He is _ still _ so yummy. “Bit of a fortune teller, aren’t you?”

Ginny’s fingers drag over his stubbled jaw as he murmurs. “I’ve been known to make quite a few valid predictions.” 

“Right, care to enlighten me with some examples?”

Oh and the banter continues even after the fact - again she’s never been a one night stand girl, for real, but from the general wisdom spouted about them she’s pretty sure the whole ‘let's fall madly in love and stay together’ conversation is unusual.

Everything about this day has been unusual. It’s like she’s been transported into some magic universe with fantastically fit blokes with even more fantastic wits and - other things to boot.

Though it’s banter at it’s finest, Ginny is a bit relieved when he confirms ‘just one’ wooing happened and it feels believable. “Oh, yeah? What did you say her name was?”

“Sorry, what’s your last name?”

God he’s a dream. “Weasley.”

And then as if he’s announcing the winner of the door prize, Harry proclaims, “Ginny Weasley!”

“Do you think you’ll ever see her again?”

Harry’s newfound suave abilities continue, and they somehow transition from planning a ‘second’ date to twisting on the shower and some communal toothbrushing - Harry’s sans the brush. It’s chummy and a little fumbling and Ginny really wishes there was another word for adorable because this is going to get disgusting. 

Especially since they’re standing inches away without a stitch of clothing between them and Ginny’s daydreaming about sipping tea and sharing eggs and toast in dressing gowns like a little domestic bit of fluffy nonsense. 

After a bit of rinsing and spitting - which doesn’t kill the attraction as much as it should - Harry reaches forward and fingers the tips of her hair, which is probably a mess right now. “Already wet.”

“That’s a bit of clunky sultry talk.”

Harry rolls his eyes and shoves her shoulder lightly. “I _ mean _you look like you had a shower.”

“Well we did work up a bit of a sweat,” Ginny murmurs, dragging her fingertip up from his hip to his chest, his breath catches when she lingers at his throat.

“You - uh. You just can’t stand to leave the company of my fit body.”

Hands wander and hers find the taut bum part of that fit body and squeeze ever so slowly. “It’s _ alright _,” he lingers at her hairline and Ginny bites back a groan as the bathroom fills with steam, “Wouldn’t kick it out of bed.”

“Well we did end up on the floor,” Harry teases, palms pulling her close, “You’re driven wild by my god-like body.”

Ginny presses her lips to his once, twice, and a third time - long and lingering. “You - uh,” another kiss, “You’re the one who got too excited to remember the bed ended.”

And then, because she’s ready to go full teasing minx, Ginny nips at Harry’s jaw and slips into the shower. “Better hurry before the hot water runs out.”

Harry follows soon after and despite the fact that they’ve become _ very _familiar with each other’s bodies over the past hour and a half, the whole set up feels intimate to a new degree. Soap suds drip down Harry’s chest in tempting rivulets and Ginny’s mind wanders halfway through her second hair scrub in the last four hours. 

Since entering the tiny tub, they haven’t touched intentionally - just slippery brushes and sideways glances - but Harry seems intent on breaking the tension. “Spin around.”

“This better not be the end of your very long and so far satisfying plan to strangle me,” Ginny drawls as she turns and Harry’s fingers knit through her hair to begin the most satisfying scalp massage of all time, “Oh God. _ Harry _.”

As the soap swirls down the drain, Harry pushes her hair aside and lets his hands drag down her arms, slowly, temptingly. “I think that’s my new favorite way to hear my name.”

“No fair - ah,” Ginny starts, just as Harry’s lips find her neck and that _ place _ behind her ear, “No fair distracting me while you’re all _ sultry massage man _.”

And then she turns to face him and remembers just how tempting naked and glistening Harry really is. He blinks down at her and leans forward - _ oh _this kiss is going to...not happen?

“No sense in wasting water when there’s a perfectly good bed in the other room, eh?”

Ginny slants her lips over his, licks into his mouth. “_ And _maybe if I’m in charge we’ll stay on the bed this time.”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Harry asks, fumbling for a couple of towels, “We uh - ”

Ah yes, apparently her ‘man eater’ eyes are in full on attack mode - _ yes _. So she does her best flirty towel down and tosses it back toward Harry as he gapes to an acceptable degree before following after. The teasing follow up falls from her lips as both of their mobiles light up on the nightstand. 

Ginny grabs for hers. “Probably the airline?”

She swipes the screen and finds another pop up - what feels like the billionth since the first delay yesterday at _ noon _. “Another delay - still need a flight crew and the weather in London’s shite.”

“When’s it not?” Harry grins, hesitant as he steps closer and ruffles his hair.

“So this changes things.”

His head droops. “Does it?”

Ginny closes the distance and grasps the damp curls at the base of his neck, “Well, now you can deliver on that date you promised.”


End file.
